


Excess

by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)



Series: Fortune Favour Me [8]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm never drinking again."<br/>Famous last words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Excess

_Sweet Andraste,_ everything hurt.

Her head throbbed in protest whenever she moved, and her mouth felt like she'd been inhaling sand. It was far, far too bright, even with the pillow pressed against her face. There had to be something else to block out the blasted sunlight. Another pillow, perhaps? A blanket. A tent. A shirt. _Anything_.

Eilin reached from under the pile of blankets and groped around blindly, wincing as the movement jolted pain through her shoulder. Her grasping fingers touched something squishy and she tugged on it impatiently.

 _Strange,_ she thought, and squeezed the squishy... _thing_. It seemed far too warm to be a pillow.

"Awake at last?"

She lifted her head with considerable effort and blinked groggily at the face swimming in her vision.

It was Alistair. And she was sitting on her bed, squashing a pillow-- _her pillow,_ she thought indignantly--between his hands. Her fingers were clutching his forearm, digging into his flesh. His surprisingly squishy flesh.

She removed her hand and tried to sit up with what little dignity she still possessed.

" _What_ ," she said imperiously, "are you doing in my bed?"

Alistair's grin only widened, and he pulled the pillow out of reach as she made a grab for it.

" _You_ ," he said, imitating her manner of speaking, "dragged me in here last night. Quite insistently, I might add."

Now she remembered. She'd drank way too much mead. And ale. And whiskey. And apparently invited Alistair back to her room.

But that meant--no. They couldn't have.

Could they?

"You were quite drunk," Alistair said cheerfully. _Far too cheerfully,_ Eilin thought, and glared at him. She rested her head on her knees, burying her face in between them until only her crimson forehead showed. "Especially when you tried to kiss me in front of--"

Eilin pulled the pillow away from him and put it over her face.

"--spent some time telling me how very... _flexible_...you are--"

"No, no, no, no. I didn't."

"--and you joined Leliana in one of her ballads. I must say," Alistair continued, still grinning, "you have many talents, dear lady, but singing is not one of them."

He ducked just in time; the pillow sailed over his head and knocked over a vase in the corner.

"Quite the temper you have," Alistair said, tsking. "Oh, and speaking of that--you tried to start a fight with two mercenaries, too." He paused and his expression became thoughtful. "I've never even heard of half the curses you shouted at them. I think even Morrigan's ears were burning."

"Go away," Eilin moaned, and dropped the other pillow on her face. "Leave me alone to die."

"Oh, you won't die. Wynne made sure of that. She made you drink some sort of potion and made me stay here to watch you in case you tried to climb out the window." He paused. "Which you did. But only once."

He scrambled off the bed and bid a hasty retreat as Eilin threw the second pillow, followed by a discarded boot. Once the door slammed and quiet descended, she fell back on the bed and threw her arms over her face.

She was never drinking again. _Never_.


End file.
